


Of Episode Tags and Missing Scenes:  Season 3

by SabbyStarlight



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: 3x01, 3x04, 3x09, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guts+Fuel+Hope, Improvise, Missing Scene, Mission: Add Jack To Season Three, Sickfic, Specimen 234+PAPR+Outbreak, Tag, The Note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: New chapter up!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We’re starting this tag thing early season three, huh? Premiere thoughts: I seriously feel like that needed to be a two-part premiere, because they crammed a ton of stuff into that forty minute long episode! Mac going to Nigeria made sense, (though that beard was absolutely dreadful) and I don’t have an issue with Nasha. It just seemed very predictable. My biggest issue with the whole Nigeria storyline though is how in the world does a remote village without running water have flawless cell phone reception?! Unimportant I know, but it has been bothering me. Mac was just in general kinda irritating in this episode if I’m being perfectly honest. Jack was just, Jack, which is pretty much always perfect in my book, but somebody seriously needs to teach the writers what a proper reunion scene is supposed to be. Cause that wasn’t it. And if there was a reason that Riley only had like, two lines in the entire episode, I missed it. I still find Leanna completely unnecessary and I hate that she’s cutting into Riley’s time. But judging by the new name order in the opening credits Tristin is going to be making up for it. And that ending? I’m just going to say it: It should have been James instead. But back to George’s apparent demotion, I’m sad of course, because Mac and Jack are, and will always be, what makes this show work, but I’m trying to keep a positive attitude. First of all, we don’t really know anything for sure, so I’m hoping that it isn’t going to be as drastic of a change as we’re all afraid it will be. And if any good can come of this, it will be that if the Mac and Jack scenes become fewer, then they will be more impactful (see previous note on reunion scenes) and meaningful. And really, can we blame the guy for wanting to spend more time with his family? If that’s not a good reason to ask for less time on set then I don’t know what is. Especially when they film so far away from his family. It’s reminding me a lot of Jared and Jensen’s decision to ask the CW to drop Supernatural’s episode count for the upcoming season down three episodes to give them another month at home with their kids. I’ll gladly take fewer episodes if it means they are willing to stick with the show longer, and I’m trying to look at George the same way. If it comes down to him being on the show less or him leaving for good, I’ll take some Jack over no Jack any day of the week. Anyway, rant over, on with the tag.

Jack’s go-bag was sitting on the row of benches inside the Phoenix locker room, still full of dirty clothes from Belarus, right where he tossed it when he and Mac finally made it back, sweaty and exhausted. Jack was battered and bruised and Mac was dragging his feet, having already gotten adjusted to Nigeria’s slower paced lifestyle, but they were joking and laughing and finally home. 

He was already dressed, grateful for the change of clothes he always kept stashed away in his locker and running a towel over his still wet from the shower hair, when his phone rang from somewhere inside the duffle bag. The notes of The Boys are Back in Town, which had been his goto shower song this evening and was still being hummed under his breath, died mid-chorus as he saw the folded piece of paper tucked under the shoulder strap as he reached for the zipper. 

Mac wasn’t the best with words. He had told Jack once, back at the beginning of their friendship, that if he had something important to say it was easier for him to write it out rather than to say it. How seeing the words form, in front of him into neat little rows, made saying difficult things easier. “Words just spill out, chaotic and unorganized.” He had explained. “And half the time your stuck explaining what you meant instead of just getting it all out. If you write it down you can think it through and reword it first, make sure it makes sense.” 

Jack bitterly thought back to that night on the deck when he had encouraged Mac to reach out to his father and Mac had picked up the notebook. Jack personally wasn’t a fan of writing, he liked the rawness of not having the countless seconds to ponder over carefully choosing each word, of speaking without filters. It was why he insisted on keeping in touch with Mac over video chat while he was gone. It was more real that way, almost like nothing had changed. Almost. 

Through all the years since Jack had reenlisted for another tour, he had never found himself on the receiving end of one of Mac’s letters. Even when they found themselves on opposite sides of the world it was always texts, video chats, static-filled phone conversations, or the occasional email sent through hard-to-find internet access if no cell phones were available. He had always been the one person Mac didn’t need to edit his words around. 

Which is why the sight of his name scrawled across the front of the letter, in handwriting so familiar it could have been his own, caused his heart to plummet to the floor. There was only one explanation: Mac was leaving again. 

He picked the paper up carefully, and held it in his slightly trembling hand, staring at the letters of his name. The slant of the top of the J and the way the K overlapped the bottom of the C. He memorized each sweep and curve of the letters until they didn’t even look like a word anymore, let alone his own name, they were just lines on a page. 

Jack jumped, startled, and nearly dropped the letter, which he could feel was more than one page thick, when his phone started ringing again. He hadn’t even noticed when the sound had stopped the first time. A missed call from Riley was flashing on his home screen when Jack finally dug the cell phone out of his bag and he dropped, defeated, down beside his bag as he called her back. Maybe, just maybe, she was calling because she had found a letter of her own. 

His hopes were dashed when she answered his call with a cheery “Where are you guys? Matty wants us all in the war room for debrief.” 

Jack winced. She didn’t know. “I, uh, yeah. Sorry Ri, I forgot how good the water pressure is here, lost track of time. I’m on my way now.” He ended the call before Riley had a chance to ask about Mac, about why he would be coming alone. 

Jack glanced down at the letter still in his hand and sighed. He needed somewhere more private than the Phoenix locker room to read it, so he got up, shoved the duffle bag of dirty clothes and his phone in his locker, and slammed the door shut, taking only the folded paper with him. 

Jack chose to take the stairs over the elevator since it was the route that would not only take longer but would have fewer people. At some point between the second and third floor though, the need to see what Mac had written, to have some form of explanation, became overwhelming and he settled down on the landing of the cold staircase, back against the wall, and carefully unfolded the papers in his hand. 

I probably should start this out with an apology, huh? You might not believe me but I am sorry, Jack. So sorry. I just can’t do it. I can’t come back there and pretend that nothing happened, I can’t work for him. I know you thought that me coming to save you meant that I was back for good, that things could finally go back to normal, but it wasn’t. That life, it doesn’t feel right to me anymore Jack. I look around there and all I see is how my father had manipulated that life into what he wanted for me. It left me feeling like nothing was really mine anymore. My job at the Phoneix- that was all him. My house, the place that I thought my grandpa had left for me because he knew how much I loved visiting it as a kid? All I see now is that it was a convenient way for my dad to make sure I stayed in LA. Even you, Jack. And I know, our friendship goes way past a job, but HE picked you to watch out for me. It was his choice. And yeah, you chose to stay, which is why I dropped what I was doing and came back. But everything that used to feel safe, and secure, and real, it just feels tainted now. And being back there reconfirmed it. LA isn’t my home anymore. 

When I left, back at the beginning of the summer, I was lost. I didn’t know what to do, where to go. So I went back to Mission City for a little while, hung out with Mr. Ericson. He mentioned me teaching again, and this time I really considered it. But I couldn’t stay there, there were too many memories of my father around, and no other school would just let me teach without a degree. So I went out to MIT. Frankie offered to pull some strings with the admissions office, get me reenrolled. I almost did it, Jack. I almost went back. It seemed like the most, I don’t know, logical, choice? But then I got to thinking about how it was probably my dad that got me into that school in the first place. And I couldn’t do it. 

I just needed to go somewhere I could make a real difference. Somewhere with real people who had real problems that I could fix without the help of Phoenix and their unlimited budget. Nigeria was the first place I thought of. I hated how we just left them in such a mess after we put out that fire. I always felt like there was so much more we could have done for them but instead, we just packed up and shipped out and moved on to the next job, but this time I could stay. I knew they would remember me, and that they would welcome the help. What I didn’t expect was that I would be so happy there. Building and working and fixing, I finally started to feel like me again, Jack. 

And because I know you're thinking it: No, it wasn’t because of Nasha. She truly was the last thing I expected to find here. But she does make me happy. Bozer said that while I was gone the only thing that seemed to make you happy was knowing that I was. I’m happy here Jack. I need you to know that. 

And I’m sorry for leaving this way, for not telling you this in person, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look you in the eye and explain that being there, in LA with you, just doesn’t feel like home anymore. I wish I knew a better way to put it, but that’s the truth. I’m not saying goodbye this time though. Last time I didn’t know when I was going to see everyone again, but now… If coming back to Phoneix to drag your butt to safety proved anything it was that I need you in my life. Not just you, but everyone. You’re my family. So no more avoiding your calls, or taking weeks to respond to messages. I’m keeping in touch this time, okay? You have my word. And maybe, if you can get away from saving the world for a day or two, you could fly down and visit me? I’d love for you to meet Nasha, I think you’ll really like her. I’m not saying this is permanent, Jack. I can’t imagine how hurt you’re feeling right now. But honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know that, for now, Nigeria feels right. 

Do you remember, back when DXS first became Phoenix? We were driving through North Korea, trying to make it to the DMZ, with a cyber-terrorist in the trunk and the only ammo we had were the fertilizer bombs I was making and throwing out the window. You were telling me to stop thinking about Nikki because I wasn’t on my A-game and that if you were going to do your job, you needed your partner back. You were wrong back then, because I could do my job and worry about Nikki just fine. But this thing with my dad, Jack, I can’t do it. I’m really not at my best right now and I’m not going to risk you or Bozer or Riley or somebody else I care about getting hurt because of it. And because you deserve the truth, Jack, I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’m trying. I’m trying to get you your partner back. 

I’m sorry. For leaving again, for not being strong enough to say all this to your face, for leaving you with the job of breaking the news to everyone else, I’m just sorry. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll talk to you soon. 

-Mac

Jack wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the blank wall of stairs in front of him after reading Mac’s letter. It was long enough for someone to worry about him though because he heard the echoing clap of the stariwell door slamming shut above him and footsteps steadily descending, before a familiar pair of combat boots appeared in his line of vision. 

“There you are!” Riley exclaimed, her steps quickening as she jogged down the last set of steps until she was standing beside him. “I was starting to think you’d got lost. What are you doing…” Her voice trailed off when she saw Jack’s face. “Where’s Mac?”

“He went back.” He said, amazed at how calm his voice sounded. 

“Like, back to the locker room because he forgot something, right?” She asked hesitantly.

“He went back to Nigeria, Riley.” Jack said, carefully refolding the sheets of paper in his hand.

Riley dropped down beside him in disbelief. “He just left?” 

“I thought we got him back, you know?” He said, shaking his head morosely. “I thought this was finally over.” 

“Look, he hasn’t been gone long, right?” She asked, reaching into her pocket for her phone. “Maybe we can call him, talk him out of this. He can’t just leave us again.”

“Don’t,” Jack said, a sad smile forming on his lips. “There’s no point. He knows what he’s doing. If…” He forced himself to take a breath, not quite believing what he was about to say. “If this is what’s best for him then, then we have to deal with it.” 

“You’re his partner.” Riley insisted, the hurt of Mac’s leaving quickly turning to anger in her eyes. “Just because he thinks this is what’s best for him doesn’t mean it’s right, Jack.” 

“No. I’m his partner, which means that I stand behind his decisions, even if I don’t always agree with them.” He nodded slowly, sounding more sure of himself with every word. “If this is what Mac needs then I support it. How much it hurts me doesn’t matter.” 

“What now?” Riley asked softly. “What do we do now?” 

Jack stood up, brushing the dust off his jeans and tucking the carefully folded letter in his shirt pocket. “Now we go break the news to everyone else, bad as I hate to,” He paused, thinking of how hard Bozer was going to take Mac’s decision. “And we go back to work, saving the world one crisis at a time. Because that’s what Mac would want us to do. And when he decides to come back, well then we’ll be here waiting.”


	2. Guts+Fuel+Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Super late tag to 3x04 Guts Fuel Hope. But better late than never, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this is crazy late, but I keep thinking about this ep and telling myself “There have to be some redeeming qualities to it, it’s not like you watch the show ONLY for Jack.) And so I rewatched it and Matty telling Mac not to cut his oxygen because “the air in there is 78% nitrogen, you inhale even one time and you’ll get the bends and die.” stuck with me. Because he survived El Noche’s pure nitrogen waterboarding, right? “Inhaling pure nitrogen won’t kill you right away, it’ll poison you slowly. I’m told it feels like drowning. Very uncomfortable.” Anywhoo, in my head (I don’t care what the episode said happened) Mac ended up in the hospital after Jack rescued him from El Noche. That was actually my first ever episode tag. So obviously Jack needed to be there to fix this one too…

Mac’s eyes fluttered open, the fluorescent lights casting shadows on his cheekbones from the movement of his eyelashes. He winced at the brightness and rolled his head to the side, trying to find some relief from the light, which had caused the pounding in his head to skyrocket. Unfortunately, all the movement did was cause him to wake up more as he became increasingly aware of the all-too-familiar sounds of a hospital surrounding him. He let out a frustrated groan and only when the sound echoed back to him, muffled and warped by the oxygen mask over his face, did he remember exactly where he was. 

Georgia. The tanker truck and the sick kids. Vasil’s doublecross. Matty yelling in his ear and him cutting his oxygen line anyway. The crushing pain in his chest, fighting not to take a breath despite how badly he needed to. It all came back in a rush of images, ending with him cracking a joke, trying to ease the look of fear on Riley’s face. That was the last thing he could remember, but, as he reached a hand up towards what he could clearly feel now really was an oxygen mask over his face, his crazy plan had obviously been a success. 

“Hey, now.” A soft voice left Mac squinting against the light once more. “Leave that alone.” 

Mac rolled his head towards the familiar voice, the paper-like material of the hospital pillowcase crinkled in his ear, loud and uncomfortable. “Don’t need it.” he rasped, despite how the razor blades that had apparently take up residence in his throat left his voice rough, as he finally tugged the mask down to hanging around his neck. 

“Yeah well, that nice lady doc said otherwise,” Jack said, crossing his arms and silently vowing to replace the mask the second his partner started showing any signs trouble breathing. For the moment, though, he was just glad to hear the younger man’s voice. “I hear that was a crazy stunt you went and pulled, even for you.” 

Mac just stared up at him from the bed, blinking slowly and focusing on the pain in his chest from each inhale, brain fuzzy. 

“Mac?” Jack leaned forward, crossed arms coming to rest on the raised bed rail. “You alright, pal? Why don’t we put that mask back on?” He reached for the mask but stopped when Mac shook his head in protest. 

“Don’t have to.” He paused and took another raspy breath. “Not real.” 

Jack’s frown deepened and he began scanning Mac’s bed for a nurse call button, not liking that his partner wasn’t making much sense at the moment. “Hang on, bud, I’m gonna go find a nurse.” He stood up, hand on the thin curtain that had been drawn around Mac’s bed, giving him some semblance of privacy. 

Mac just shrugged as his hand made its way to absentmindedly rub at his clearly hurting chest as Jack went to leave. “Not real.” 

Hearing those two words a second time made Jack stop, curiosity fully piqued. “What’s not real, Mac?” 

“You,” Mac answered simply, as if it had been obvious all along. “Not here.” 

Jack couldn’t help the smirk that graced the corners of his mouth as he turned back around to fully face his partner. “And why ain’t I?” 

“DC,” Mac replied, eyes too busy examining the IV line he had discovered in the back of his hand to meet Jack’s. “‘M dreaming.”

Jack bit back a laugh, always amazed by how quickly his partner could go from badass, super-soldier-spy to an adorable kid in a matter of seconds. “Hate to break it to ya pal, but I’m right here.”

“Mhmm.” Mac agreed noncommittally, blunt nails scraping at the corner of the medical tape that was keeping the IV in place. 

“Hey.” Jack stepped back towards the bed, gently taking hold of Mac’s wrist. “Stop pickin’ at that.” 

As soon as Jack touched him, Mac’s head snapped in his direction, blue eyes alert for the first time since waking up. “There he is.” Jack smiled in relief. “You back with me now?” 

“Jack?” Mac asked, and the older man winced at the worsening hoarseness in his partner’s voice. 

“Okay, buddy. Time to put this back on.” Jack decided, gently picking up the oxygen mask and placing it back on Mac’s face, despite the scowl that was being shot his way. “Keep that there for me. Lord knows you worked hard enough to get the oxygen back up and running in this place, least you can do is take a break and use some of it for yourself.” 

Mac nodded, though he lifted a hand and pulled the mask away from his face just long enough to croak out “DC?” before dropping it back into place. 

Jack settled back down in his chair before explaining. “I had just finished up, was on the plane headed back to LA when Matty called me. Said that you and Riley had gotten yourselves into some trouble over here. Tried convincin’ me that you would be fine but as soon as she let it slip that you had been admitted into the same damn hospital she sent you over here to save, I made her reroute me to you.” 

Mac smiled, leave it to Jack to fly halfway across the world on their company’s dime just to check up on him. He rolled carefully over onto his side facing Jack and reached up to pull the mask away from his face again. “What happened? Thought I was in the clear.”

“Perhaps I could answer that.” A different voice interrupted as Dr. Nakani pushed back the curtain divider. “I thought I heard voices in here. Glad to see you are awake, Mr. MacGyver.” 

“Just Mac.” Jack and Mac both answered simultaneously. 

“Alright then, Mac.” She said with a smile. “You are a smart man, I am assuming you have heard of decompression sickness?” 

Mac nodded, remembering Matty’s warning about The Bends. It had already been among the list of concerns he had floating through his head right before cutting his oxygen supply, even before she had mentioned it, but he had continued with his plan anyway.

“Well,” She continued as she moved to the foot of Mac’s bed, checking the charts hanging from the clipboard there. “There is a lesser known, side effect to decompression sickness. People familiar with it call this The Chokes as it focuses almost entirely on the body’s pulmonary system.” 

Mac glanced towards Jack, who was following the doctor’s every word but didn’t seem surprised by the diagnosis; clearly she had already explained Mac’s condition before he woke up. His partner felt familiar eyes on him and as soon as Mac had his attention he pulled the mask away from his face again. “Home?” He asked hopefully. 

“I don’t feel comfortable releasing you quite yet.” Dr. Nakani interrupted. “Especially when you have such a long flight home. Your condition is stable but I would highly advise against any drastic change in altitude.” 

Mac’s shoulders slumped in defeat and Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep his grin contained. “You’re stuck here for a while, bud. ‘Least till morning. We’ll see how you’re feeling then.” 

“Let us get you healthy again before you leave. After what you did for us,” Dr. Nakani placed a hand on Mac’s shoulder. “It’s the least we can do.” 

Mac sighed, hoping he was the only one who could hear the rattling in his chest, and nodded his head in agreement, resigning himself to yet another hospital stay. 

“At least this one’s a kid’s hospital, man.” Jack said with a laugh, easily following Mac’s thoughts. “It’s fitting, I mean come on, you look all of sixteen right now.” 

Mac’s responding glare shot daggers towards the older man but Dr. Nakani intercepted his hand as it reached up to remove the mask, promptly stopping his rebuttal in its tracks. “Let’s focus our energy on healing, not teasing. Keep the mask on.” She smiled at Mac and shook Jack’s hand before leaving the little curtained off room. “If you need anything do not hesitate to ask.” 

“Will do,” Jack assured. “Thanks for all your help.” His hand went to carefully brushing Mac’s hair away from his forhead once they were alone. “You sure you’re feelin’ alright? You look like hell.”

Mac swatted his partner’s hand away and took advantage of his own raised hand to remove the oxygen mask once again. “I’m fine. Sore, mostly tired. Stop worrying.” 

“Alright,” Jack conceded with a smile. “Put that thing back on and get some sleep.” 

Mission successfully completed and with his partner once again watching his six, Mac was asleep within minutes. 

Jack had drifted off the sleep too until the curtain divider rattled softly and he heard an “Excuse me, sir?” spoken in haltingly broken English from behind him. 

He turned around, preparing to shoo away whatever scrub-clad nurse had intentions of waking up his resting partner. Instead, he found a woman, in slightly rumpled civilian clothes, dark circles, not unlike the ones he too often saw in his own reflection after sitting vigil beside a hospital bed, underlined her eyes. A worried parent, like so many other things, Jack had discovered, looked the same in any language. 

“He will be well?” She asked, eyes scanning Mac’s sleeping form. 

“Yeah,” Jack assured with a nod. “He will be. Just needs to rest for a while.” 

She broke into a relieved smile at the news. “Your boy, he saved my boy.” 

Jack glanced behind her through the open curtain, at the row of sick children Mac and Riley had saved. “I’m glad to hear it. 

“When he wakes up, you will thank him for me?” She asked. 

“I will.” He assured with a proud smile. 

She returned his smile, and with a final look at Mac, as if to assure herself that he would be fine, turned to leave. She paused, hand on the curtain, and met Jack’s eyes once more. “It is the sign of a great man, to raise his son to be a great man too.” 

She left, closing the little makeshift room up behind her before Jack had a chance to correct the technicality of Mac actually being his son. Looking down at the young man in the hospital bed, Jack chose to just take the compliment for what it was rather than chase the stranger down to correct her. 

He hadn’t only been giving Mac a hard time earlier, he really did look younger there. Something about a hospital bed always did that; made him look like the scrawny kid he met all those years ago in the desert instead of the man most people knew. Maybe the woman hadn’t been all that wrong. Sure Mac wasn’t technically his son, but all those years together, he had to have had some influence in the man Mac had become. 

Jack remembered his own father saying that you didn’t stop parenting a child just because they turned eighteen. He never really believed that (despite how often he found himself going to his dad for advice long into adulthood) but sitting there, in a children’s hospital, just one in a long line of parents watching over a healing child, Jack had never felt more like a parent.


	3. Specimen 234+ PAPR+Outbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a way, I would have rather had another episode where we talk to an imaginary Jack on the phone instead of taking what had the potential to be a really cool ep and having Mac treat Jack the way he did throughout. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but all the crossed arms and hands in pockets… there was some MAJOR tension there, not to mention that it was another episode where Jack was written like a paranoid idiot. Sigh. I really miss when I loved this show. I honestly didn’t know if I was gonna get this done before the ep tonight because I have just been majorly lacking inspiration. But anyway, on with the fixing…

In the end, it was Sparky of all people, if you could call their resident AI robotic wonder, people, who remembered Jack. “Bozer, I have a question regarding how humans process humor.” His voice came through the quiet lab where Mac and Bozer were working. 

They shared a small smile and Mac shook his head, signaling to his friend that the question was his to answer. “Alright, man. Shoot.” He said, leaning back from the lab table and taking a few extra spins around on the swiveling stool he was sitting on.

“Seeing as how I'm not equipped with artillery and I see no threat you would need me to take out with firepower, I assume ‘shoot’ is your way of prompting me to ask my question?” Sparky asked. 

“Yes.” Bozer said, closing his eyes and asking for patience. When Mac had suggested the AI project he hadn’t imagined how never-ending the task would be. 

“How long does a joke's humor last? When does the… punchline… as you call it, end?” 

Bozer frowned at the robot and then turned to Mac, who had looked up, a puzzled frown on his face as well. “You are literally programmed to not ask random things. Where is this coming from?” Bozer asked when he realized that Mac was just as confused as he was. 

“I have been waiting on the humorous part of your joke to kick in, MacGyver.” Sparky explained, turning his head towards Mac with a metallic sounding whirl. “At the hour mark, I became curious as to how long it is customary to keep people waiting.” 

Bozer and Mac shared another confused look but before Bozer could once again question the potential flaw in Sparky’s coding, the soldering iron Mac had been using dropped to the metal lab table with a clang. “Jack.” He explained, shucking off his lab coat and tossing it on the stool as he stood up to leave. “I sent him to go wait in the interrogation room. This went way too far.” 

“Come on, Mac,” Bozer said, shaking his head. “It’s been an hour. You seriously think he’s still there? I’m sure he realized it was a stupid prank and went home already. He’s probably chilling on the couch with a beer, plotting his revenge.” 

“Then I’ll go there to apologize,” Mac said, looking back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at home.” 

Just as Bozer had predicted, when Mac opened the door to the interrogation room, after his three quick knocks had gone unanswered, he found the barren grey room empty. When he headed down to the parking garage though, fully intending to do just as he had said and go to Jack’s house to apologize, possibly with pizza and a six-pack as a peace offering, he found Jack’s Shelby parked in her usual spot, right next to Mac’s Jeep. 

Mac pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Jack’s number, getting only his voicemail. Frowning, he made a loop through all of Phoenix, finding the War Room, the tech lab (not that he had really expected his partner to be hanging out there), and the gym all Jack-free. Out of ideas, and thinking that maybe Jack had doubled back to find him and Bozer and they had just missed passing each other, Mac headed back down to the lab.

He paused, almost at the entrance to the lab, and turned around, eyes scanning the hallway he had just passed. He hadn’t noticed it when he went searching for Jack because he had taken the stairwell at the other end of the hall, but there was a small room close to the elevator doors. The door to which, Mac was certain, had been closed when the three of them had exited the elevator together. It was open now, though no lights were turned on. 

The room was intended to be a type of lounge area. A place where lab techs could crash to get a few hours of rest if they were pulling an all-nighter to help a team in the field or a retreat for them while waiting on the results of a time-consuming project. In reality, though, it had become a catch-all for outdated furniture that was still too functional to throw out and a great hiding spot for broken lab equipment. In the years Mac had worked in the building he had never once seen someone use the room recreationally.

Which is why the sight of his partner, apparently sound asleep, on the dusty dark green sofa, was such a shock. 

“Come on, Jack.” He said, reaching for the light switch only to find that the bulb had blown, leaving the only light in the room what was coming through the open door from the hallway. “Joke’s up. I’m sorry, okay? That wasn’t cool. Dinner and first round’s on me.” Mac frowned when Jack, who was a notoriously light sleeper, didn’t move. “Jack?” He moved through the small room, arms out and feeling with his feet in the dim light, hoping not to trip over anything, and carefully shoved what appeared to be a broken microscope off the coffee table, making room for him to sit facing Jack. 

“Jack. Come on, man. Wake up, let’s get outta here.” Mac tried again. This time, Jack stirred, his face scrunching into a frown and pulling his arms closer to himself as if he was cold. 

“Mac?” The older man asked, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“Yeah. It’s me.” Mac rolled his eyes with a smile. “Let’s go home, dude. Joke’s over.” 

“Don’t feel good.” Jack mumbled, burrowing his face further into the arm of the couch. 

“Oh, come on. We’re still doing that?” Mac sighed. “I told you, the incubation period for the virus has expired. You’re fine, Jack. I was just messing with you earlier, I promise.” 

“Something’s wrong, Mac.” Jack insisted, finally opening his eyes. “I feel awful.” 

“Alright, big guy. You’re jet-lagged and exhausted and slightly paranoid, but I swear, you’re not dying.” Mac insisted. “I’ll even admit that you took a couple hard hits back there, but we got checked out before we boarded the plane. You didn’t even end up with a concussion this time. You’re fine.” 

Jack shot Mac a glare before rolling away from him with a huff, facing the back of the sofa now. “If you’re gonna start that again just leave, Mac. I’m telling you, something ain’t right. I feel like I got hit by a damn truck.” 

“Alright.” Mac conceded. “Let’s just get out of here, huh? I bet you’ll feel better the minute you get off that old couch. Why’d you even decide to crash here anyway? I’ve been looking for you for like, half an hour. You wouldn’t even answer your phone.” 

“Was goin’ back to the lab,” Jack explained, not making any move to get up. “To find you. This’s as far as I made it. Elevator made me dizzy. And the phone ringing made my headache worse” He motioned towards the floor. “Turned it off, put it there. Somewhere.” 

That got Mac’s attention and made him rethink how quickly he had brushed off Jack’s complaints. “Have you eaten anything today?” He asked. 

Jack shook his head no and then groaned at the movement. In a voice not much more than a hoarse whisper, he finally responded. “Can’t keep anything down. Tried telling you…” 

“Alright, alright. We’ll see how you’re feeling once we get you home.” Mac said, reaching out and resting a placating hand on Jack’s shoulder. He wasn’t expecting the heat he could feel radiating through the fabric of his partner’s shirt though. “Jack?” His voice went from lighthearted teasing to concern in a second. “Jack, look at me. “Are you running a fever?” 

“Can’t be,” Jack said, rolling over to face Mac once again. “Not sick. It’s all in my head.” He lifted a slightly shaking arm to cough into his shoulder. “At least that’s what my brat of a partner says.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mac said again, though this time he truly meant the words, as he placed a hand against Jack’s forehead. “I just don’t get how you got sick… You really are fevered though.” 

“You believe me now?” Jack asked, turning his head to move away from Mac’s hand. 

“Yeah, buddy. I believe you.” Mac sighed. “Let’s get you up to medical, huh? For real this time.” 

Jack shook his head in protest again, having forgotten how that caused the already prevalent pain behind his eyes to flare even worse. With a low groan, he rested his forearm across his eyes, to help ease the pain or to hide from it Mac wasn’t sure. “Not movin’.” Jack declared. “Head’s pounding, the room starts spinnin’ like a tilt-a-whirl when I stand up, and my knees turned into Jell-O somewhere on the walk here. Medical can either come to me, for real this time, not another stupid joke, or you can just leave me here to suffer alone.” 

“I really am sorry, Jack.” Mac tried again, resting what he hoped was a comforting hand on his partner’s shoulder. “I swear I didn’t think you really were sick.” 

“Well I am.” Jack croaked back in a tone that was supposed to be intimidating but the fact that Jack was quickly losing his voice took most of the fire out of the words. 

“I know,” Mac said, squinting at his watch through the room’s dim light. “But I was serious about the timeline, man. If this really was the virus you really would be dead by now.” 

“Startin’ to feel like I wish I was.” Jack admitted, trying to suppress a shiver that was running through his body. “This sucks.” 

“Well if it isn’t that virus…” Mac began, a thought forming. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a virus. Jack, you got that email last month, right? The one about Phoneix Med giving flu shots? Mandatory for all employees?” 

“Yeah, I got the memo.” Jack said. Someone who didn’t know him as well as Mac might not have picked up on the slight hesitation in his voice, but Mac picked up on it instantly. 

“And you went and got it, right?” Mac pressed on, hoping he was wrong. 

“You know I hate needles, Mac.” Jack answered with a sigh that turned into another cough. 

“Damn it, Jack,” Mac said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “What part of mandatory did you not understand?” 

“The part where it said ‘Come let our stab-happy medical staff maim you for no reason!’” Jack responded. “Again, I hate needles.” He pulled his arm away from his face to meet Mac’s eyes as if eye contact would emphasize his point. 

“Well, I have a feeling you’re going to hate this more,” Mac said. “You’re in for a miserable few weeks.”

“Won’t be too bad.” Jack grinned. “You see, I know this guy, supposed to be my partner, my best friend, and he was a total jerk to me earlier. You wouldn’t believe it, making jokes at my expense, pulling mean pranks, not believing a word I said, all the while I’m sick!” 

“Yeah, what about him?” Mac said, though he couldn’t help but smile. He knew exactly where Jack’s thoughts were heading and really, he’d had it coming. 

“Point is,” Jack continued. “He owes me, big time. But I think catering to my every need while I’m recovering might make up for it.” 

Mac chuckled. “Yeah, I deserve that. But I still need to get you to Medical first.” 

“No way, dude.” Jack protested. “I was serious about not moving.” 

“I’ll help you,” Mac assured. “You can lean on me the whole way.” 

Jack cracked his eyes open, looking at his partner and considering his options. “Fine.” He decided with a sigh. “But if I get out in that hallway and the light makes my headache worse I’m burying my face in your shoulder like some kinda damsel in distress the whole way there and you won’t say a damn thing about it.” 

Mac smiled. “Deal.” It was time for him to take care of his partner for a change. “Besides, everyone knows you’re my favorite damsel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I don’t do sick fics often, so I’m a little unsure about this one…

**Author's Note:**

> After a few months away from writing, it feels good getting back to our boys.


End file.
